Clone

by M A Gelsey

  Arthur was practically bouncing with excitement as he shepherded the two new arrivals across the room towards Annabel.

  “Annabel, allow me to present Edgar Prime. The first-ever clone. Edgar Prime, Annabel.”

  Annabel explored him with her eyes. He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. She almost asked what it was like to have a living original, but that seemed too personal a beginning, so Annabel settled for, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he mumbled. “It’s Ed, by the way. Not Edgar Prime.”

  “Hi, Ed.” Annabel flushed at how tongue-tied she felt, but Ed didn’t seem to notice.

  “And over there is Beatrice,” Arthur said, pointing at the tattooed woman who, without greeting anyone, had strode across the room and begun inspecting the preparations her team of assistants had made, while they waited for her comments with bated breath. She began to rattle off instructions and immediately they jumped into action.

  “I’ll be right back,” Arthur said, hurrying once more to the elevator. “I’m sure our third guest of honor will be here shortly.” He stepped into the elevator and clattered back down to the ground floor.

  There was a momentary silence during which she and Ed merely stood together awkwardly, completely ignored by Beatrice and the others, who were repositioning the lights so they formed a semi-circle facing the sheet on the far wall.

  “Have you ever met another clone?” Annabel blurted out, mentally cursing herself for how eager she sounded.

  Ed looked up from the spot on the floor where he’d been staring. “I don’t know,” he said, but did not elaborate.

  She wondered if he was always this standoffish or if it had something to do with her. Uncharacteristically, she decided she didn’t care, and allowed her curiosity to trump courtesy.

  “What’s Dr. Midas like?” she asked.

  A scowl flitted across Ed’s handsome face. The hostility she sensed seemed to intensify, then it melted away as suddenly as it had come.

  “Challenging,” he replied. Once more, she waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead he asked a question of his own. “Who made you?”

  “My husband,” she said. She noticed his brow furrow slightly as he considered her words; for the first time, he seemed to be giving her his full attention. Before he could say anything else however, the sound of the elevator creaking up from the ground floor interrupted them, indicating a new arrival.

  37: JAVI

  Javi’s flight had been delayed by two hours, and consequentially he was fifteen minutes late for the photo shoot. He’d checked into his hotel with barely enough time for a shower (air travel always made him feel grimy but never more so than this flight, his first ever experience in coach) and it took him longer than he’d expected to hail a cab. While the driver was weaving in and out of traffic, Javi called his dad’s cell phone. It was a calculated move, to keep his parents from becoming suspicious or worried about his whereabouts — even though his mom was still upset with him, he knew she would want to know he had arrived safely. He was banking on the call going unanswered since he knew his dad had been planning to spend the day golfing, and he always preferred to have his phone on silent so he could more easily “get in the zone”.

  He left a short message about Stanford, and said he’d text when he and Fred were on their way back the following night. Guilt battled for his attention, but he pushed the feeling away. He was legally an adult, after all. He didn’t have to be honest about everything if he didn’t want to be.

  When the cab stopped in front of a brick building he hastily paid his fare and ran inside where Arthur Blair was waiting for him.

  “Javier, so glad you found us!”

  Javi merely grunted in response, but Blair was already yammering on about Javi’s one chore during what would otherwise be a completely free weekend.

  “Modest building for a photo shoot, I know, but Beatrice Bosch is a true artist. We were lucky to get her.”

  Javi nodded politely, wondering if Blair was aware how little all of this interested him. Blair beckoned, stepping back to allow Javi to climb into the most ancient elevator he had ever seen. Blair followed him, slid the iron grating in place with a rattling click, and pressed the second floor button.

  It was only while the elevator was ascending that Javi’s thoughts returned to the other two clones. He felt a strange flutter of nerves in his stomach, mingled with what he supposed he could call excitement. Now that the moment of meeting was upon him, the whole situation seemed surreal. The elevator ground to a halt and Blair unlatched the iron grating and slid it off to one side, leading the way into the large room where the photographs would be taken.

  “Allow me to introduce Edgar Prime Midas and Annabel King,” said Blair, gesturing to two people standing just inside the entrance. Javi gave Edgar Prime the briefest of nods in greeting, but found it difficult not to stare at Annabel King. She had long, dark red hair that he wanted to run his hands through, porcelain skin, clear blue eyes, and pink lips that were curved into a small smile. She was tall and slender, but curvy in the right places.

  “Uh,” Javi stammered, mentally cursing himself. “Hi. I’m Javi.” He forced himself to glance towards Edgar Prime as he said this so that Annabel wouldn’t realize how dumbstruck she’d made him. Ha, too late for that.

  “I go by Ed, actually,” said Edgar Prime. When Javi tore his eyes away from Annabel again to shake Ed’s hand, he realized with dismay that there was no way Annabel would look twice at him with someone like this guy around. Ed was the very definition of ‘tall, dark and handsome’. He noticed a couple of the younger women across the room shooting Ed appreciative looks while they adjusted the lamps.

  “Nice to meet you, Javi,” said Javi’s newest crush. She looked at him curiously, and he tried to arrange a more nonchalant expression on his face and not stare at her so intensely. Nothing like coming off like a gawky fucking loser to make a girl fall for you. Get it together, idiot.

  “Hi,” he said again. “Sorry I’m late. My flight was delayed.” Like they care.

  “Not to worry, not to worry,” Blair cut in. “Let’s get started. This is Beatrice, she’ll be photographing you.” He indicated a thirty-something woman wearing all black who stood in the corner attended by her cluster of eager-looking assistants. Beatrice’s visible skin was covered with tattoos, her hair was short, spiky and platinum blonde, and she wore dark red lipstick and a lot of eyeliner. Instead of speaking she merely raised the camera she was holding, pointed it at them and clicked.

  “Well then!” Blair cried out, clapping his hands enthusiastically. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Beatrice snapped her fingers and the assistants sprung into action, guiding the three clones over to the area in front of all the lights while fiddling with their hair and dabbing on small bits of makeup. Annabel was placed in the center, flanked by Javi and Ed. Javi thought he must have ruined half the shots by looking sideways at Annabel instead of at the camera. He couldn’t help but notice that her hair smelled like lemons.

  “How weird is this?” Javi muttered to the others while Beatrice fiddled with the settings on her camera.

  Ed barely spared him a glance, then went right back to glaring at the floor. “Weird,” he said shortly.

  “Have either of you done anything like this before?” Annabel asked, turning to face them.

  “Nope,” Javi said.

  Ed didn’t say anything for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder. He looked embarrassed. With a stab of annoyance, Javi noticed Annabel watching him.

  “I guess this probably seems pretty normal to you,” Javi said, barely able to keep the hostility out of his voice. In middle school Fred and Herman had convinced Javi to find out more about where he came from, and they’d come across a number of articles profiling the illustrious Dr. Edgar Midas, none of which failed to mention that his scientific breakthrough was proved when he successfully made a clone using his own DNA. Under other circumstances, Javi might have refle
cted on how strange Ed’s upbringing must have been. But it was hard to have sympathy for someone so disgustingly good-looking.

  Ed didn’t answer for a moment, then mumbled, “It’ll never be normal.”

  “Did your parents commission you, Annabel?” Javi assumed most clones were, like him, created to replace the prematurely departed children of the wealthy.

  “No,” Annabel said, but she did not explain further. He wondered whether he’d imagined the glance exchanged between Annabel and Ed, a glance that made Javi feel irrationally jealous. Maybe Ed already knew her story — come to think about it, he probably knew all about Javi as well. Javi scowled, but didn’t have a chance to say anything more because Beatrice was ready to resume.

  The photo shoot was one of the most uncomfortable experiences Javi had ever had; even though Beatrice was perfectly courteous and patient with them, it was tedious to stand posing while a camera flashed in your face over and over again. Beatrice took a number of group shots, followed by individual portraits. There wasn’t much chance to talk with Beatrice clicking away and calling out instructions for them to modify their facial expressions and postures. When she finally announced she had what she needed, Javi sighed audibly in relief.

  They all climbed into the elevator together, leaving Beatrice and her assistants to put away the lighting equipment and pack up the camera. As the elevator rattled down to the the ground floor and they stepped out into the lobby, Javi checked his phone and saw that his father had texted, telling him to have fun and be safe (his mother’s addition, no doubt). Emboldened by his successful deception, Javi looked up at Annabel who was standing awkwardly as though she was unsure of whether to leave or not.

  “D’you want to grab a coffee?” Javi blurted out.

  Annabel looked surprised, but gratified. “Sure, okay. What about you, Ed?”

  Javi tried to hide his annoyance that she had invited his rival along; he’d been hoping she’d take his invitation as more of a date, but he supposed that was too much to expect.

  Ed sighed in what he probably thought was a convincing show of regret. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Got plans already this afternoon. But it was nice meeting you both.”

  Suppressing a grin at his good luck, Javi shook Ed’s hand and with an equanimity he would have found more difficult had they not been about to part ways. He even managed to watch Ed shaking Annabel’s hand (and holding onto it slightly longer than necessary in Javi’s opinion) with only minimal displeasure. Arthur Blair hovered around them, smiling a cloying smile and babbling about how pleased he was that they’d all hit it off. Javi was impatient to leave the reporter behind with his sweaty face and clamoring interest.

  With one final nod in their direction, Ed walked off down the street. Javi immediately turned to go the opposite direction with Annabel in order to avoid them all having to share the sidewalk. In truth, he didn’t have the faintest idea where they’d go next; he hadn’t planned anything out beyond getting away from handsome Ed and sycophantic Blair.

  He and Annabel didn’t speak for the first block or so, and Javi was more self-conscious than usual of everything from the length of his strides to the way his arms hung at his sides. They strolled in an unhurried way, and Javi tried his hardest to appear relaxed.

  “D’you know a place near here?” Annabel ventured.

  “Um.” Javi stuck his hands in his pockets, the illusion of cool assurance shattered. “No,” he admitted. “I live in California, so I don’t know the city all that well. I visited a long time ago with my parents but . . .” he trailed off.

  “I don’t know it either,” Annabel confessed. “This is my first time in New York. It’s my first time anywhere, actually.”

  “We could just . . . wander around?” Javi almost cringed at how juvenile he sounded, but stopped himself when he saw Annabel’s smile.

  “I’d like that,” she said, and Javi was quietly elated.

  38: EDGAR PRIME

  Edgar Prime left the photo shoot in a foul mood. Part of him wished he had never agreed to Arthur Blair’s stupid story, and had never had to meet his fellow clones. Disgusted as he was to admit it to himself, the truth was that he resented them. They reminded him of how even among the clones, he was an anomaly. Unlike the others who had been made for love and grief, he was nothing more than the experiment of a narcissist.

  There was also the fact that he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortably responsible for any hardship incurred by Javi and Annabel — a perverse sort of guilt by association. Were they happy to have been created to fill the roles of the dead, or did their lives consist of one disappointment after another when they couldn’t live up to the expectations of their creators? Worse, this had started him wondering about all the others; he didn’t even know how many had been made over the last eighteen years. He had never given much thought to Dr. Midas’s policy not to ask any questions of his clients, but now he wondered whether that was nothing more than a lame excuse. Just like everything about him, thought Edgar Prime. And I’m his copy — if he can do this, what does it say about me?

  Before the photo shoot, he’d met with Arthur Blair and told him a pack of lies that satisfied the PR requirements laid out for him by Dr. Midas by way of Patrice. Yes, he was honored to have been an integral part of the history of genetics. Yes, he had learned a lot from Dr. Midas’s mentorship. No, he had no reservations about cloning or any of the other genetic experiments carried out at Dr. Midas’s lab. All lies. But it was easier than telling the truth.

  The fact that he had neither seen nor spoken to Hugo or Celeste or any of them in over a week was weighing on him too. Edgar Prime knew he should reach out to Hugo at least, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. No matter how many times he took out his phone and stared at it, willing it to ring or buzz with a text notification. Willing himself to make the first move in contacting them, but never doing it. He knew now that he was a coward, and he hated himself for it.

  When the photo shoot ended and Arthur Blair shook all their hands and thanked them profusely for their participation, Edgar Prime was relieved. After a curt goodbye to Annabel and Javi, Edgar Prime walked away from the building and began striding through the streets with no clear purpose. For over an hour he walked, not paying much attention to where he was going and it was only when he turned a corner and saw the outline of a familiar building several blocks up that he realized where he was headed.

  He stood at the entrance and allowed the scanner to capture his retinas. There was a click and the bulletproof glass door swung open to admit him. Inside, Edgar Prime waved to Charlie the blonde security guard, wishing his golden hair looked less like Hugo’s. Charlie nodded to him in greeting, and watched solemnly as Edgar Prime used his thumbprint to unlock the elevators.

  Dr. Midas was right where Edgar Prime expected him to be, in his office reading over the latest data reports from Patrice’s research while strolling along on his treadmill desk. When Edgar Prime entered, Dr. Midas smiled an avuncular smile and his eyes twinkled as he regarded the living embodiment of his genius.

  “This is a pleasant surprise, Prime.”

  “Do you ever wonder what becomes of them?” He spoke in a rush, without preamble. Dr. Midas furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “Of who?”

  “Of all of them. Your children.” He spat the word.

  Dr. Midas raised an eyebrow. He didn’t need to ask who Edgar Prime meant again; he knew. His mouth curved into half a smile. “They are not my children. Nor my responsibility. None of them but you.”

  “Maybe they should be. Your responsibility.”

  “Maybe,” conceded Dr. Midas. “But they aren’t. What I do is perfectly legal. If I didn’t do it, someone else would. Others do, in fact. They just don’t do it as well as me.”

  “Legal because of Harlow,” Edgar Prime said. He wasn’t sure why he was bringing Harlow into this. Nobody had ever confirmed Edgar Prime’s suspicions about Harlow’s role in legalizing human cloning, but there had been
many hints over the years, most from Harlow himself. Harlow was a man who loved to bask in his own glory, and loved that his influence extended to the highest levels of government.

  Any hope that mentioning Harlow would rattle Dr. Midas was quashed; he merely chuckled. “That’s just speculation, Prime. But as you know, Damon Aldous Harlow is a powerful man with powerful friends. He’s been a loyal patron of my research for a long time.”

  What was left unspoken floated in the air between them for a moment. “You never answered my question,” Edgar Prime said finally. “Do you ever wonder about them? Your clones.”

  “They are not ‘my’ clones. So to answer your question, no. It is not my place to wonder, no more than it is yours to judge.” Dr. Midas sounded stern now. “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, Prime. Cavorting with this Clone Advocacy Network seems to have mixed up your priorities.”

  “My priorities are fine,” Edgar Prime said through gritted teeth.

  “Your priorities are even more muddled than one would normally expect from a person your age,” Dr. Midas countered.

  Edgar Prime did not answer. Dr. Midas was eyeing him with pity, as though this whole line of questioning was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. Suddenly feeling like he couldn’t stand to be in the presence of his maker for another second, Edgar Prime shook his head with as much scorn as he could muster and turned to go. Dr. Midas called after him.